Birds of a Feather
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: The tale of how Class VII's two ranged specialists spend some of their mornings. Gen.


**Birds of a Feather**

Quick little ficlet that popped into my head when I heard the Alisa/Machias victory quote. Practice makes perfect, right?

* * *

The greetings, as always, were light and easy.

"Fancy seeing you here!" the blonde called out cheerily, waving one hand when she saw the target range's other occupant.

"Of course; where else would I be at this hour?" came the even reply from the bespectacled boy.

"Oh, I don't know – still in bed along with the rest of Thors? Or at the dining hall, maybe?"

A dismissive sniff. "And waste good daylight? Perish the thought!"

If they were being perfectly honest, neither the archer nor the gunman was sure when the shift from happenstance to routine had occurred.

At the start, it was simple; they both enjoyed being productive with their mornings, so after rising with the sun and indulging in their own rituals (a first cup of coffee for Machias, a few moments to tie her hair ribbons for Alisa) they would go down to the Thors target range to get some practice in.

Their first encounter, only a scant few days after Class VII's initial formation, was awkward at best; neither one knew each other all that well, and for all of Sara's optimism at the end of the first day the feeling out process was very much a work in progress.

If pressed, all the pair would have been able to recall were awkward, stilted attempts at conversation and surreptitious glances at the performance of the other. Not for competition's sake, of course – that would come later – but rather to see the similarities and differences in how they fought. Non orbal ranged combat was its own distinct discipline, and seeing as how neither one had any grounds for comparison...

"So, what are you working on today?" Alisa asked Machias, setting her satchel down on a patch of grass next to his own.

"Trying to see if I can better increase my target acquisition speed. It's not certainly not poor by any means, but it could always be faster," he told her, his fingers going through the familiar motions of calibrating his shotgun.

The blonde chuckled in reply, shaking her head all the while. "Leave it to the Vice President to be so dedicated," she tweaked, a small giggle coming forth at the face he made. "Most people would be more than happy with what you call 'not poor', you know."

Machias' reply was as she expected; indignant, huffy, over the top, and somehow endearing in a way that it simply hadn't been months before. "S-Speak for yourself! From what I've seen of your performance lately you have even less cause to be here than I do!"

She merely rolled her eyes at that, looking a little bit annoyed with herself. "Well, thanks for the compliment, but I'll have you know the last time I was here before you showed up my bullseye percentage was only hovering around the 80% mark."

That took Machias a little off guard. "Really?" he asked, visibly surprised – it wasn't uncommon for the archer to go days without missing. "That's not like you... that said, you looked up to par after I arrived. Perhaps it was just been a poor start?" he offered, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. "Those happen sometimes."

A playfully raised eyebrow. "Something tells me that if our situations were reversed you'd be singing a different tune," she teased, knowing all too well his tendency to overwork in the name of results.

His reaction was in line with her expectations, to say the least. "I-I haven't the slightest idea what you mean," Machias sniffed haughtily as he crossed his arms and pointedly turned his gaze to the side, looking every inch the stoic, unflappable genius that most of the Thors student body believed him to be. (Something that amused the entirety of Class VII to no end, to say the least). "No one's exempt from a sub-par day here or there."

"Except for you and Emma during midterms," the Reinford heiress sing-songed, and was rewarded by the always amusing sight of the VP's equilibrium utterly shattering for a second or two before he belatedly realized that he had walked into that one and caught himself, his expression only slightly sheepish.

"... That's hardly relevant." Resisting the urge to fiddle with his glasses again, the boy instead raised one hand to cough discreetly, trying to get matters back on track. "Academics and combat are two distinct disciplines. Anyway, saying that you know your own combat style the best would be an understatement. Having peace of mind in the heat of battle is something that all cadets should strive for, and if this helps then it's certainly a worthwhile endeavor."

"Glad you see it my way, though I appreciate the sentiment," Alisa chuckled, her longbow slung over her shoulder. Scrutinizing the targets, she paused briefly to flick a glance at her companion. "Would it be all right if I led things off, or would you like to do the honors?"

A gentlemanly wave in the direction of the range was the VP's response. "By all means, lead on. You sound like you're raring to go, anyway. Would you like me to time and chart?" Machias asked, kneeling down beside his bag to remove a notebook and pen.

"That'd be great, thanks!" Alisa chirped, nodding her thanks at him before she began striding away to her favored spot, Machias observing all the while. "Starting with target pattern 'D', for the record."

"Noted," he replied evenly, mentally noting the letter with the prescribed sequence of targets and time that it should take. "Might I recommend easing your way into things though? 'D' is quite intense," Machias continued, knowing all too well what her answer would be.

"That's boring. You're boring," Alisa retorted primly, the easy back and forth just as much part of the routine as the actual shooting at this point.

It had taken a few weeks before Alisa had hesitantly broached the topic of turning what had been independent practices into cooperative ones; it hadn't taken the pair long to get used to the presence of the other on the target range, and if they were going to be fighting in the same class while assuming a similar role it only made sense that they do their best to help teach other along.

Surprisingly, Machias was more than accepting of the idea, something that was made quite clear the first time he showed her his now familiar notebook. Inside were meticulously kept statistics of hit percentages, trajectories, and times for various scenarios that he ran – times that he hastened to point out were mere approximations. Close ones to be sure, but not as close as they could be if he had a second pair of eyes keeping an eye on both his ARCUS and his shooting.

" _I would be more than happy to do the same for you, of course,_ " he had said stiffly, though with an air of anticipation about him that indicated he had been thinking about this for some time as well.

And thus, a fruitful partnership was born.

"Ready," Machias called out, watching as the second indicator on the ARCUS came close to the minute. A few arges away, Alisa took a few deep breaths and raised her bow, fighting the urge to tense up in anticipation; adrenaline was a powerful aid in combat if controlled, but rushing the shot at the cost of form would help no one.

"Set."

A final breath, then -

"Go!"

Immediately, the first arrow was notched and released in a fluid motion, the lack of hesitation or pauses a testament to the amount of time that Alisa had devoted to her craft.

"Bullseye," Machias murmured with satisfaction, watching intently as the archer repeated the action with no wasted movement, the only deviation being the turn of her upper body as she switched her aim to the periphery a mere fraction of a second before her second shot was released. Then her third and fourth, the blonde finding a rhythm early.

A furious flurry of arrows later, Machias looked up from ARCUS and nodded firmly. "Time!"

Breathing heavily, Alisa lowered her arms and winced slightly. 'D' was the longest of the patterns she had devised, and it was meant to test long term endurance over the course of a battle in addition to her accuracy – something that her aching arm muscles and fingertips told her it did quite well. "So, how'd I do?"

"I have the feeling your bad spell is behind you," the green haired boy told her, flipping the notebook around to show her his observations with no small amount of satisfaction. "Not one miss, not even near the end when fatigue should have made them occur. Well done, Ms. Reinford."

If it were coming from anyone else, Alisa would have probably taken the statement as sarcasm. Coming from Machias, however, she recognized the genuine praise for what it was and she couldn't help but grin sheepishly. "Hehe. Looks like I may have been overreacting a little after all."

"I could have told you that – and did, as a matter of fact," he drolly shot back, rolling his eyes a little at the mock glare she shot him. "Wonder of wonders."

"I'm sorry, but exactly happened to the understanding, helpful, 'having peace of mind in the heat of battle, rest of boring spiel goes here' Machias from earlier?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.

"Well, he turned out to be right. According to some, he tends to be somewhat insufferable when he turns out to be right," Machias quipped dryly.

"Only 'somewhat', huh?" Alisa deadpanned, her expression totally flat with only the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betraying her amusement. "Since when?"

A sniff. "I'm going to ignore that. At any rate, it appears as though your concerns were unfounded; let's hope after this I can say the same thing."

Making a face, Alisa reached over to take the notebook and pen from Machias. "I'm sure you'll do fine as always. Still, there's only one way to find out!"

Looking up quickly as she jotted down the date and time on the page for the Class VII VP, she was entirely unsurprised to see that the gunman was already in his preferred spot in front of the target range. "In a rush, are we?"

"I suppose I might be a little bit eager," came the quick answer. "Watching your performance was certainly motivating, to say the least."

"Color me flattered," the blonde quipped, before Alisa's expression turned serious again. "Want me to call the same pattern as last time?"

The boy shook his head in the negative. "Not today. Random assignments, if you wouldn't mind."

Her eyebrows raised slightly. "That's a new one. Have you gotten bored of the routine already?"

"Not in the slightest, but it really is just that; a routine, even with the variations you helped me come up with. If I want to keep improving, then this is the logical next step."

"Always thinking ahead; that's so you," Alisa chuckled, giving her head a quick shake while her fingers made last minute adjustments to the timing settings on the ARCUS.

"A few seconds on forethought buys you that much time on the battlefield," the green haired boy said tersely, his focus now on the task at hand. "I'm ready whenever you are, Alisa."

"Ready," came the archer's quick reply, and immediately the shotgun was raised and aligned, the stock pressing firmly against its wielder's shoulder. "Set..."

For the next few moments, there was no movement or sound in the clearing. The barrel stayed perfectly still, glinting in the morning sun, and the momentary reverie was shattered when Alisa called out stridently. "Target A, head!"

Machias immediately swept his gun toward the assigned location, and the motion was soon followed by a localized roar as the the orbal shotgun discharged.

"Target B, torso!"

Another blast, and as the gunman prepared to take aim again -

"Target A, legs!"

The bespectacled boy bit back a curse as he managed to swing the gun back to the initial location without too much hassle; it was a good move by Alisa, he noted clinically even as he executed the command without hesitation. For one thing, enemies were hardly ever dealt with in one shot. Not to mention that it was a good way to test his adaptability mid skirmish. Full marks, Ms. Reinford.

After what seemed like an hour's worth of shots later, a call of "Time!" echoed across the range and Machias nearly dropped his gun in relief, his fingers almost numb from the repeated vibrations. Breathing heavily, he looked up to see Alisa jogging over, a small grin on her face. "You all right?"

The boy nodded in assent. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm also very glad that this drill was designed for time and not accuracy," Machias said, wincing slightly as he recalled some of his less than optimal blasts.

Alisa shrugged. "I think the fact you're using a shotgun should kind of compensate for that, though. And besides – your times were still really good! Here, see for yourself."

Taking the notebook from her outstretched hand, Machias flicked his eyes over the recorded figures. He had to admit, even by his (obscenely high, as the rest of Class VII would immediately attest to) his performance had been...

"Ten mira says you're thinking 'adequate' right about now," Alisa cut in dryly, and Machias couldn't quite stop his head from snapping upward, a little flustered. "And it's safe to say that's a yes. I can accept installments, if you'd like." She fluffed her hair a little, a playful smirk alighting on her lips.

"D-Don't be ridiculous," Machias stuttered, a little put out at having been so transparent. "As a matter of fact, I'll have you know that I'm more than satisfied with my performance today!"

He expected another witty rejoinder to come back at him. Instead, he was surprised to see Alisa's mischievous expression fall away, only to be replaced with one that was far more sober.

"... No you're not," the blonde said matter of factly, and Machias couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Oh? You certainly sound sure of yourself, Alisa. May I ask how you came to this particular deduction?" came the curious query.

Her answer was straightforward, honest, and truth be told had more than a little of... well, Rean sprinkled in there. "Because I'm not satisfied. Well, a little bit if I'm being totally honest, but not really. Because the minute I start thinking like that, that will be when I stop trying to improve, and I can't let that happen. Because if I do..." she trailed off, letting the words die in the morning air. Fortunately for Alisa, her sentiments did not go unshared.

"It's not just you. *We* can't let that happen," Machias affirmed quietly, the atmosphere in the small field having gone deadly serious now. "No one in Class VII can. Not with what we've seen, and what might still be yet coming to Erebonia. We have to be ready, every single one of us."

Both students knew that their field studies up until now had only given them a taste of what to expect. Something was brewing under the surface of the Empire, something bigger that all of Thors, much less their homeroom, and neither student was so presumptuous as to assume that the fate of their homeland would possibly come down to the actions of a group of first years. Nothing changed the fact, however, that they recognized that they were further involved then they had thought possible before they had arrived at the academy. That was both their duty and their privilege, just as it was for the rest of Class VII, and they would both do their part to shoulder that weight. With everyone trying just as hard, they could do no less.

The Reinford scion raised her head, her crimson eyes resolute as they met his emerald. "We will be ready, won't we?" she challenged, the pride in her voice making it clear that she had no intention of losing to anyone or anything. Across from her, Machias returned the gesture determinedly, his gaze not wavering for an instant.

"There's not a doubt in my mind. Woe betide whoever or whatever comes next, because Class VII won't ever back down."

One last fierce smile. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

A few moments of silence.

"... is it just me, or is Rean rubbing off on us?" Alisa finally asked, scratching a cheek a little in embarrassment as her mind replayed the last few moments of their conversation. Goddess, it really didn't get more corny then that, did it?

"W-Well, I suppose it's entirely possible that his... enthusiasm may be more infectious then either one of us had first thought," came the boy's sheepish admission, the redness in his cheeks a telltale sign that he too recognized that they had gotten slightly too fired up.

"Hmmph! R-Rean should really be more thoughtful about the things he says and how he might influence people," she groused, trying to suppress her own blush and failing miserably. "I mean, honestly! Getting us to talk so seriously at the crack of dawn – he owes us for this!"

"I don't think I'd go that far," the Class VII VP muttered under his breath, only to throw his hands up in a theatrical gesture of surrender as Alisa turned a mock glare on him. "But then again I haven't had my second cup of coffee yet, so perhaps I'll refrain from making any judgments either way."

"... Was that a cop-out? Because it really sounded sounded like a cop-out," Alisa pressed, the small smile in her words impossible to miss.

A last indignant sniff. "I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about. At any rate, we should get back – classes will be starting soon, and I wasn't lying about not having my second cup yet."

The blonde snickered as they packed up and sauntered off, their words fading in the morning sun. "And of course you wouldn't want to break your streak of being the first one in the classroom. It's okay if Emma beats you there from time to time you know, it's not going to count for marks~!"

"... That's *not* why."

"Of course it's not, Machias. Of course it's not."

* * *

"Damn," Rean swore under his breath, his eyes flickering warily from the group of monsters that now had them surrounded. Things had been going so well for so long at the Schoolhouse that he had gotten careless; one mistimed strike had been enough to signal the target's friends, and now said friends were around them on all sides ready to make the group pay for their field leader's mistake.

"This won't be easy," Emma murmured worriedly, the grip on her orbal staff tight; further down the corridor were Gaius, Laura, and Elliot, but they had their hands full with their own monster situation. They would be fine from the looks of things, but help from that avenue wasn't forthcoming anytime soon.

Read nodded tersely. To his credit, the dark haired boy had wasted little time; he had a plan formulated and ready to go -

Only to have it die on his lips as a rain of fire suddenly came down on one side, utterly incinerating the first mob in a burst of heat and light. A second later, a loud roar echoed in his ears like someone had set off a bomb right by his head, and Rean immediately swung his head around to see the other monsters desperately trying to move as the insidious effects of the Petrification Shell took hold before their struggles finally ceased entirely.

It was just a matter of clean up now, really.

"Wow," Rean uttered afterward, not able to say much more than that. Close by, Emma could only swallow hard and nod, regarding the satisfied looking pair with an expression of shock while they casually stowed their weapons, as if ending what should have been a struggle in an instant was nothing new.

As for the pair themselves...

"Hehe. Every team needs a ranged option!" Alisa chirped happily.

Machias nodded firmly, regarding his friend with a proud look. "Can't beat what they can't touch."

* * *

AN: Surprised I managed to get a fic out of one line of dialogue, but this one wrote itself, really. No OMAKE this time; little too short, methinks. Plus, I'm saving more shipping stuff for future stories, which will probably come after CSII drops. Man, I can't wait...


End file.
